


How To Build A Barrier

by askull4everyoccasion



Series: A Year Every Minute [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askull4everyoccasion/pseuds/askull4everyoccasion
Summary: A prequel to A Year Every Minute, How To Build A Barrier will explore the life of Wingdings Gaster before the creation of Sans and Papyrus or the sealing of monsters in Mt. Ebott. You don’t need to read AYEM to understand anything about HTBAB, but knowing how Gaster ends up will certainly bring a whole new level of heartache for you if you have.This story will inevitably explore mature themes such as death, PTSD, depression, and genocide.





	1. Chapter 1

The town of Allaay was different than other towns. Walking its streets would perhaps unnerve you, as chatter was at an unsettling minimum for the amount of people around, and most “spoke in hands”. But for those who lived there it was a safe, comfortable haven for the hearing and speech impaired. The language of Wingdings wasn't entirely well-known, so having a place where you didn't have to worry about a language barrier was more than most could ask for. Whether you were a human who lost their hearing from an accident or a monster who was born without vocal chords, you were welcomed in the town of Allaay. It provided anything you may need for your every day life and even more, the signs above the shops and inn written in both regular script and carved with the symbols of Wingdings so no one would feel left out or alienated. Wingdings wasn't just the name of a language, however.

It was also the name of a young skeleton child who lived there.

Monsters were often given names with meaning behind them, and Wingdings Gaster was no exception. Born into a town that spoke very little, and from a father who couldn't speak at all, Wingdings seemed like the perfect name for the little monster. His mother and father, Vrinda and Trebuchet Gaster, had settled just outside the town of Allaay shortly after Wingdings' birth. They ran a small farm a good wagon ride out of town, and made their living selling their goods at the market, be that fresh eggs from their flock of chickens, or fresh meat from their pigs. They didn't make much, but they lived a comfortable, simple life.

...

It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and on days like these, Trebuchet was always sneaking away to catch a nap where his wife wouldn't find him.

His son, however, was a different story.

Wingdings knew all of his father's favorite hiding spots. The loft, under the tree in the backyard, in the wagon, it was just a matter of checking each spot until he found his dad sleeping behind a few piles of hay.

Trebuchet was massive, especially for a skeleton. Over six feet tall and wide enough to take up an entire doorway, he was intimidating to many even when you didn't take his other features into account. His eyes were small and dark, and the bone on his face was riddled with pits and scars. One in particular traveled up along from his upper jaw where he was missing a few teeth and across his cheek bone. As for his lower jaw--

\--it simply didn't exist anymore.

Wingdings had asked his dad many times how he had lost it, but had never been given more than 'it had been an accident'. Sometimes he said he had been kicked by a mule and it was knocked off. Other times he said he got into a bar fight and it had been sliced off. The little skeleton really didn't know what to believe, but he could never imagine his lazy, calm, cheerful father ever getting into any sort of trouble or fights with other people, whether they be monster or human.

His mother on the other hand...

Wingdings ran into the barn and climbed the old wooden ladder up to the loft, the boards creaking with the strain of the speed he scaled it with tiny bare feet covered in dirt and grass. As soon as he caught sight of his father he didn't waste any time, barreling towards him and crashing into his lap.

Trebuchet startled, eyes sockets flying open and arms unfolding from across his chest before he realized what had caused the sudden interruption from his very important nap; a little skeleton sprawled across him.

Wingdings beamed.

'Hi!' The little skeleton signed, 'CanIgoseeifCylaswantstoplay?'

Trebuchet sighed through his nose and rubbed his calloused, rough fingers around the bottoms of his slim eye sockets. He always moved sluggishly, one hand rising upwards to sign back; 'slow down.'

Wingdings huffed. He hated how lazily his dad moved sometimes, especially when he wanted something and the day was only so long!

'Can I go see if Cylas can play?'

The larger skeleton's eye sockets moved from watching his son's hands up to his face.

…

 

'Ask your mother.' He signed, grinning with his eyes as he leaned back into the hay again.

If looks of betrayal could shatter mirrors, the one on Wingdings' face would have probably succeeded.

'What why?!'

Even though this was usually the response he got from his dad who hated the responsibility of giving a 'yes' or a 'no', it still didn't sting any less no matter how many times he saw it.

'Because I said so.' Was all Trebuchet responded with, still smiling as much as he was able without half of his mouth as he nestled back into the straw and closed his eyes.

Wingdings pouted.

The nerve. The nerve!

The boy rolled off of his father's lap before getting to his feet and jabbing the larger skeleton in the arm to get his attention again so he could sign; 'I'm telling mom you're sleeping!' before he sped off towards the ladder, not looking back to the expression of momentary panic on Trebuchet's face.

He knew it was there.

Wingdings grinned.

He raced out of the barn, the wooden door slamming closed behind him with its own weight as he let go and ran across the grass, danced around a few startled chickens, and flung the door open to the farmhouse.

It was summer, and so the fire that usually warmed up the main area was out, the front room branching off into the kitchen, pantry, and parlor, and a set of narrow stairs leading up to their bedrooms. It was made of wood and stone, with plenty of little dents and scratches that gave it character, most of which were probably from housing a rambunctious six-year-old boy.

The windows were open to let in light and the occasional breeze, and Wingdings' feet carried him into the parlor where he guessed his mother to be if she wasn't somewhere outside doing chores.

Their parlor room was filled with books, and a large window provided adequate lighting during the day to read to your heart's content. Not a single wall seemed to be free from a stack or shelf of tomes and manuals of all varieties and subjects. A large, cushioned chair sat at one end of the big window and a smaller wooden rocking chair on the other. A tiny end table was nestled between them with a candle for when they came in to read at night, and a number of blankets and pillows were scattered on the ground where Wingdings often liked to read too, or play with his toys when it wasn't nice enough to play outside.

Vrinda sat in the rocking chair by the window with a winter jacket in her lap and a needle and thread in her hand mending a hole that had only been growing larger over the past few winters. She was small in comparison to her husband, and her bones were smooth and polished. Not even her hands looked to be calloused despite being a farmer.

Her eyes were wide, dots of light shining brightly in their sockets and her skull was much longer and less round than Trebuchet's, with a pointy chin and thin smile. Everything about her seemed to be sharp and lithe, precise and perfect. Even her eyes had been tattooed at some point in time, a set of black, false lashes poking out from the corners of her eye sockets.

She didn't even glance up from her work as Wingdings rushed in and gripped the arm of the rocking chair.

'Dad's sleeping in the loft again!' The little boy signed.

Vrinda stopped her sewing to stare in annoyance at nothing in particular. She didn't even need to directly look at her son to know what he had signed, and she knew exactly what tattling on his father meant.

“I'll deal with him shortly. What do you want, Wingdings?”

Wingdings shuffled on his feet a little, suddenly a little nervous. Asking his mom what he wanted was always a little stressful. He never knew if she would say yes or no.

'Can I go play with Cylas?' He finally signed after a few seconds of pause.

“Have you finished your chores?” Vrinda asked.

He nodded.

“Did you finish magic practice?”

Wingdings nodded again.

“Did you finish the book work I gave you?”

Yet again, he nodded. Perhaps with a bit more exasperation this time.

“Hm.” Vrinda said, pausing in her work once more to turn and look at her son, thinking. “Ask me if you can go play with Cylas verbally and you can go.”

She returned to her work.

Wingdings looked like she had just asked him to kill his favorite chicken. 'Why!? I signed it already!'

“Signing is not speaking and I've told you it's good to be able to do both.” Vrinda said, “A day might come where you need to communicate with someone who doesn't know how to use hands, and you can talk, so you need to practice it even if you don't like it.”

The little skeleton tilted his head back and opened his mouth. At first nothing came out, then slowly a loud whine pushed forward as he slumped and moaned about having to do something he hated.

Vrinda just smiled. “See? That's a start. Now ask me if you can go play with Cylas.”

Wingdings sighed and wobbled from side to side before he finally spoke; “CAN I GO PLAY WITH CYLAS?”

He winced as he said it, always hating the sound of his own voice. It wasn't that he couldn't speak, it was just... loud. Very loud. He wanted a quiet voice like his mom had, and he wasn't exactly sure how to control his volume or pronounce things as neatly as she did.

His mom always sounded so... dignified.

He sounded like he was screeching.

Of course, not practicing it often didn't help his problem, but he conveniently ignored that.

“Good. You may. Make sure you're back in time for dinner.” His mother said, and returned back to her sewing. This wouldn't be a day where she would have him spend more time pronouncing things correctly, sometimes she gave him a break from it and was just happy that he spoke at all.

Wingdings sighed, feeling exhausted just from talking a few words aloud, but was very happy to actually get what he wanted.

Vrinda leaned expectantly towards him and the little skeleton angled closer to tap his teeth against her cheekbone before signing a grateful 'thank you' with his hands and turning and leaving the room. He headed out the front door and down the walkway onto the road, a simple dirt rut in the grass where carriages would come and go to and from the town either full of people or full of supplies. Sometimes both.

Allaay didn't get too many newcomers though. It wasn't really known for anything other than being a refuge for those with hearing or speaking disabilities of some kind, and while new residents were always welcome, it didn't offer anything spectacular beyond that. It wasn't too big, it wasn't too small. The crime usually wasn't anything that couldn't be resolved by a few angry people, and it was just the right size that everyone knew everyone else.

The only action it ever saw was local. Farmers like Wingdings' parents traveling into town to sell or exchange what they had for something they needed.

Cylas lived a little closer to the town, both of his parents traveling to it every morning to work. Their home was small and not filled at all with the sort of amenities as Wingdings’ home was, such as a room full of books no common monster should be able to afford, but it was still a decent walk from point A to point B.

As the fields slowly became smaller and smaller, and the houses closer together, Wingdings’ pace quickened until he was running towards the all too familiar house of his friend. A small part of him did think that yelling would be easier than walking up to the door, but at the same time… nah.

Screw that.

The little skeleton headed down the dirt pathway to the front entrance, knocking on it before taking a step back and waiting.

…

The lights of his eyes rolled around in their sockets, studying the thatching of the roof above and the open window with curtains pulled back to let the summer air inside. His face twisted a little and he began to wonder if maybe Cylas wasn’t home.

Soon though the familiar sound of footsteps came from just beyond the door and Wingdings grinned.

Cylas appeared on the other side, coming up only to the skeleton’s chest and covered in short black fur. For the most part he looked like your average cat monster, claws and a tail and pointed ears, but his face was where everything changed. Instead of the usual feline face he had a single, large eye in the center just above his nose and mouth.

“Hey!” The little cat monster grinned as soon as he saw his friend, sharp white teeth on display.

Unlike Wingdings and a some of the other residents of Allaay, Cylas didn’t need to sign, and neither did his parents or siblings. They hadn’t come from some great migration for their needs like a lot had, they had simply lived in the area for a number of generations. Perhaps his grandparents had wanted to be in an area with special accommodation for themselves, but Cylas never mentioned them, if he even knew of them. And why move when there was no reason to?

'Hey!' Wingdings signed back, 'Can you play?'

Cylas took a moment to glance back inside the house, as if weighing the options of being punished for not finishing his chores or staying home and missing the chance of having fun with his best friend.

“Gonna go play with Dings!” The cat monster yelled into the house after making his decision. Just as a voice yelled out towards him, not sounding at all pleased, he slipped out from the door and ran right past Wingdings. “Come on!”

The skeleton made a slightly worried face before turning and running along after Cylas, catching up quickly with how much longer his legs were. He started to sign once he knew the other could see his hands.

'Your brother didn't sound happy.'

“Eh, whatever.” Cylas shrugged, changing into a leisurely walk once they had gotten some distance down the road. “I was supposed to watch my little sister today, but he can do it. She's so annoying.”

Wingdings frowned, 'You're lucky to have brothers and sisters! I've always wanted a sibling.'

“Ugh, why?” The monster groaned, “All they do is nag you like your parents if they're older than you or whine and bug you if they're younger than you. There's nothing fun about having brothers and sisters.”

'But even on rainy days you have someone to play with, and isn't it cool to have someone older than you teach you stuff? Or teaching someone younger than you stuff? I'd love to be someone's big brother!' Wingdings signed back.

“I guess? But most of the time they just annoy you. You're better off being an only child, Dings, trust me.” Cylas said, cat-like mouth turning upwards into a grin.

Wingdings huffed in disagreement. As much as he loved his parents he still wished he had a younger brother or sister to help take care of. He wanted to teach them things, show them what the world was like, help them grow up. On rainy days, when he couldn't play with Cylas and only had the inner walls of the house to entertain himself he just wished there was someone else with him there that wasn't his mom or dad.

… But he supposed he should be happy with what he had. His house was never cold. He never went hungry. His mom read him stories and his dad would tuck him in at night.

Vrinda had made sure that Wingdings knew things could be worse, and to be grateful for what you had.

“Hey!” Cylas snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. “You're zoning out on me again!”

Wingdings blinked and looked up quickly before giving Cylas a sheepish smile. 'Sorry.'

“You really love to hide in that skull of yours, Dings. You think too much.”

'You think too little.' The skeleton teased.

Cylas huffed, “Yeah, well, if it weren't for me you'd never have any fun.”

'You mean never get into any trouble.' Wingdings' teeth stretched wide.

“Trouble is just another word for having fun.” The cat grinned and folded his arms.

Wingdings just gave him an incredulous look. 'Yeah, okay.'

The two eventually reached their favorite hangout spot outside of town, free from the prying eyes of their parents, Cylas' siblings, and anyone else. There wasn't much spectacular about their little spot, but it was theirs and they loved it.

It was shaded by trees, the largest being a tall oak that grew near a small creek. They could spend the day climbing it or splashing off in the water sometimes catching tadpoles or minnows. They built small dams out of rocks and towns out of twigs, used bark as shields and sticks as swords. Both of them were young with wild imaginations, Cylas always taking charge and being the hero in the end, even if he did need his trusty sidekick Dings to help him out against the invisible creatures of the forest.

One thing Cylas hated though, was his friend's use of magic.

“Cheater!” The cyclops yelled after Wingdings had summoned a bone attack in his hand to fend off his friend's assault after being disarmed of his stick-sword. It was small and smooth, a tiny white bone barely a foot long.

Wingdings smiled sheepishly, 'Sorry?' He signed after dispersing his magic.

“I hate it when you do that! You know I can't use magic, so it's cheating!” Cylas hissed.

The skeleton waved his hands in front of him to try and diffuse the situation. 'Sorry!' He signed again, 'It was just... a gut reaction.'

Cylas frowned and sighed, “... That's weird, y'know.”

Wingdings blinked and looked confused.

“Using magic. Being so good with it. It's weird.”

'Mom says-'

“Your mom is SUPER weird!” Cylas interrupted, getting a very venomous look from his friend in return. “I mean, I don't hate her or anythin', she's cool, but... Dings, you're the only kid whose mom teaches him how to fight... and read.”

The skeleton's anger subsided and he just looked confused again. 'That's just because not all monsters can do magic. And a lot of parents are too busy or something.' He shrugged, then looked through the trees at the sun, drawing ever closer to the horizon.

'… We should start heading back home anyway.'

“Ugh, don't change the subject. You always change the subject when this comes up, Dings!” Cylas groaned, but fell in line with his taller friend as they started back to their homes, Cylas tossing his 'sword' to the ground for another day.

“You're gonna have to admit one day that somethin' is super weird about your parents.”

Wingdings frowned, 'They're not weird.'

“Your mom teaches you how to fight and use magic and read and your dad is all scarred up and missing half his face!” Cylas said, Wingdings stopping dead to glare down at him. The feline raised his hands in defense. “He does! I'm just sayin'.”

They started walking again.

'Mom just wants me to be proficient with magic because it's what monsters are. We're living, breathing magic. And if we can use it further than just... EXISTING then we should! It can help people! It can heal and make food that makes you feel better and protect the ones you care about. That's why she teaches it to me. And dad... dad got into an accident before I was born. Plenty of people get into accidents.'

In reality he was really just reciting everything he had told Cylas before, everything his parents had told him. It was true though, everything he said. There was nothing wrong with learning magic or being a little different. Cylas should know that, what with where they lived and all.

The cat-monster sighed, “Okay, but what about all those books you have? I bet you have as many as the royals do!”

'We do not.' Wingdings signed while rolling the lights of his eyes. 'Mom just really likes to read. She said a lot of them were gifts from her old family.'

“Yeah, which means her old family had to have been loaded.” Cylas rolled his eye right back.

Wingdings didn't reply to that, because he knew he couldn't argue against it. His mom never spoke of her family, and neither did his father. He knew certain traits about his mom and dad were weird, but the reasons they gave when he asked made sense.

The boring truth just wasn't enough for Cylas. That's why he kept asking about it. But there really wasn't anything particularly extraordinary about his parents, as strange as some of their habits might have been.

...

Most of the journey back was in silence, broken up only by the occasional banter about their surroundings. They kicked stones and smacked sticks against trees or into bushes as they passed them, and soon they were approaching Cylas' house.

“Cylas!!”, his older brother screeched from the doorway, “Get in here! You're in so much trouble!”

Both boys winced and the cat-monster looked at Wingdings. “Guess I'll see ya around.”

'Yeah. Good luck.' The skeleton signed back, and kept on walking as his friend turned and ran towards his house.

Wingdings waved and offered an apologetic smile to Cylas' older brother, who looked like a scaled-up version of his friend, but only got a slight frown in return. It was his fault Cylas had wanted to run off in the first place.

“You didn't do any of your chores! Get in here and do them before mom and dad get back!” He hissed, yanking his little brother through the door before his attention returned to the skeleton. “Go home, Wingdings!”

The door slammed behind him.

Wingdings shrank down and walked faster, settling into a jog until he was out of sight of the little house. He sighed once the coast was clear and slowed his pace, wondering why Cylas didn't just do his chores before leaving. He never asked for help either. He would have totally helped! But no. He just... left them for his other siblings to deal with.

It was pretty rude, but then again Cylas did talk a bit rude about his family.

Wingdings wondered why.

He would have loved to have a bigger family.

***

It was dusk when Wingdings arrived back home and caught sight of his dad as he got closer, hurrying over to him.

Trebuchet looked up from feeding the last of the animals and smiled as much as he could, using one hand to sign while the other finished up his work. 'Hey kiddo. Have fun?'

'Yeah.' The little skeleton smiled, grasping onto the wooden fence that housed their livestock and slowly rocking back and forth on his heels. 'Cylas got in trouble for ditching his chores again though.'

Treb just shook his head. 'That boy never learns does he?'

'Nope.' Wingdings signed, 'We had fun though. Is dinner ready?'

'Not yet. You still have time to wash up and help out if mom needs it.' The large skeleton signed back before dusting off his hands and standing up straight with a slightly pained grunt. 'Tell her I'll be in soon.'

Wingdings pushed off the fence and head inside, immediately hit by the strong aromas of his mom's cooking.

Meat. Potatoes. Carrots. Freshly baked bread.

Somehow he never grew bored of the smell or the taste. He couldn't even think of anything that his mom had made that he didn't like. Every meal was full of love, and Vrinda would spend hours in the kitchen sometimes getting everything right.

“It will be done in a few minutes.” Vrinda said as soon as she heard her son's little footsteps get close. “Go wash up.”

She turned to look at him while poking the fire just as he signed, 'dad will be in soon' and left to go clean up.

Skeletons didn't need to bathe often, but when you lived on a farm and played in the dirt, your hands did get pretty dirty.

Wingdings walked to the water pump and grabbed the soap sitting beside it, scrubbing between his phalanges. It smelled like flowers of some kind that he couldn't quite place, petals mixed in with the animal fat keeping it all together. He raised his hands to his nose and sniffed it before washing off the bubbles and then drying with a rag that was frayed around the edges hanging near the spout.

His dad walked up behind him, the big skeleton reaching down to pat his son's head before doing much the same, scrubbing the filth from his fingers.

Once Wingdings was back inside he helped set the table and then it was time to sit down and eat.

It was one of his favorite parts of the day, sitting and telling his parents what he did while eating his mother's cooking. The sounds of her voice, the crackling fire, and the clink of forks against plates filling up the room. Vrinda's voice was always a little 'harsh' he sometimes heard people call it, but he liked it. It was different than how most of the people in the village spoke. The ones that did speak anyway.

During a lull in the conversation Wingdings looked up between his parents, setting his fork aside so he could sign.

'Mom? Dad?' He asked, waiting for them both to be looking at him.

'Can I have a baby brother?'

Trebuchet made a choking sort of noise.

“This again?” Vrinda asked. “Wingdings, why are you so interested in having a sibling?”

'Cylas has a brother and sister and I want to have a little brother to teach how to play and stuff!' The little skeleton signed.

“We're not going to have another child.” His mother said, “Besides, by the time it was as old as you are now, you would be 12. You probably wouldn't have the same interests. And what if you had a baby sister? What would you do then?”

Wingdings hesitated. '… I'd still teach her how to do cool boy stuff.'

Vrinda rolled her eyes. “The answer is still no.”

The little boy pouted and looked at his dad, hoping to get a different answer. Treb just made a few large sweeping 'not getting involved' hand gestures before turning back to eating, the food vanishing as soon as it touched his upper jaw.

Wingdings whined and poked at his dinner.

Why was a little brother too much to ask for?

...

After dinner Wingdings helped his parents clean everything up and by that time it was growing dark. Their days always ended about the same, they would light some candles and then retire to the reading room.

Cylas had always mentioned how odd it was that they had a room dedicated only to books, the walls covered in shelves filled with manuscripts and tomes of a variety of subjects, from the sciences to fairy tales.

When they settled in for the night Treb would take his spot and lean back into his chair, hands folded over his chest as he calmly watched his wife and son choose a book to read for the night. He couldn't read himself, but listening was always a treat, and he was glad that his son had learned to read where many others wouldn't have the chance.

Sometimes they would pick something that not even he fully understood, sometimes a childrens book or fairytale, other times something to do with monster history.

Every night was something new and different, but always enjoyable.

While Treb sat in his chair Vrinda settled on the pillows scattered across the floor. Wingdings would crawl into her lap as she unfolded the book and began to read, her voice steady and soothing. She would make different voices for the characters if there were any, and accent every word perfectly, never mispronouncing.

… And as the night drew on her voice would become quieter and quieter until eventually both Treb and Wingdings would be asleep.

Vrinda closed the book slowly and shifted her legs out from under Wingdings so she could tap her husband awake and he could carry their son off to bed, tucked under his blankets before his parents whispered quiet 'I love yous'.

...

Tomorrow would be another day just like the last.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward a couple of years, things... are starting to get a little more tense.

Days went by.

 

Years.

 

Things didn't change much in the routine of the Gaster family. Before the sun even rose over the horizon they were beginning to stir. The rooster outside crowed loudly, waking up the rest of the animals and their caretakers within the farmhouse made of wood and stone.

 

Vrinda was always the first awake, wiggling underneath the burly arm of her husband before peeling herself away from him and sitting up. She rubbed at her eye sockets before standing and heading over to the window, opening it up to let the rising dawn slowly creep into the room.

 

She gave Trebuchet the time it took her to get dressed for the day before walking over to his side of the bed and sighing.

 

“Treb.”

 

There was no response other than the rhythmic rising and falling of the skeleton's ribs.

 

Vrinda sighed again and reached for him. “Tre-”

 

Before she could get his full name out of her mouth a large arm swooped around her waist and gently pulled her back into bed. Thick, rough bones wrapped around her as she made a number of disgruntled noises.

 

“Treb-- ugh.” Vrinda groaned into her husband's chest. “The animals can't feed themselves.”

 

Trebuchet mumbled what he could in response before a long sigh left where his mouth would have been. Tiny eyes cracked open and he leaned down to tap what was left of his teeth against his wife's head.

 

Vrinda smiled and leaned up, tapping her teeth back. “I love you too... now get your rear out of bed or I'm dragging you out.”

 

He whined and let her go, wheezing a little as she rolled right over him to get to her feet and start heading out.

 

Served him right, being lovey.

 

Her footsteps were silent as she walked down the hall to her son's bedroom and opened the door, the little skeleton still sound asleep with the blankets kicked half on the floor, little feet sticking out.

 

Vrinda walked over and wiggled her fingers on the arch of one of Wingdings’ feet, the little boy twitching before forcefully yanking his legs up and trying his hardest to hide under the covers.

 

His mother chuckled and sat down beside him to tug the blanket away from his face.

 

“Time to get up, Wingdings. Get dressed and go feed the chickens.”

 

The little skeleton turned what little nose he had up and tried to wiggle deeper into the blankets, grumbling, but failed when his mom's grip was too strong for him to pull them away. He gave up and lay still, eye sockets cracked halfway open as Vrinda yanked the blankets the rest of the way off him and then stood to open his bedroom window.

 

The sun was still barely over the horizon, but the little light that did pour in made Wingdings squint and rub at his eye sockets.

 

Soon Vrinda left the room, leaving her son to slowly sit up and start getting ready for the day.

 

He tugged off the large tunic that fell past his knees and started to pull on the same shirt and trousers he had worn the day before. They were a little dirty from playing and doing his chores, but aside from that it wasn't uncommon to wear the same thing for days if not weeks at a time depending on how dirty they were; skeletons especially. It wasn't as though they sweat very much.

 

When he was fully dressed Wingdings walked out of his room, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide open as he yawned quietly. The silence of the house was starting to fade by then, especially once his dad was awake. The floorboards under the large skeleton's feet creaked with his movement as he walked towards the stairs, ruffling his son's head as he passed him. Wingdings’ little feet followed the  _ THUNK, THUNK, THUNK  _ of his dad's down the stairs with their own  _ tap, tap, tap. _

 

The creaking floorboards joined in harmony with the crackling of fire as Vrinda started to get one going for the day, the rest of the family putting on their shoes and heading out the door to tend to the animals.

 

Wingdings had a few more responsibilities around the farm now that he was eight, for the most part having taken over the chores that his mother had done in the morning when he was younger. He always fed the chickens first though, no matter what.

 

He liked the chickens, even though it always made him a little sad that they ate them when they stopped laying eggs.

 

Trebuchet and Wingdings went about taking care of the farm while Vrinda prepared breakfast. The sun slowly inched over the horizon, light pouring in through the windows to help her see without lighting any candles while simultaneously blinding Treb and her son whenever they had to do work facing the skyline.

 

The world as a whole was waking up for the day, and while in some places things might not be going so smoothly, things in the Gaster residence were just as they had been every day before.

 

When breakfast was ready Vrinda called in her family and they all sat down to eat; a nice porridge with some fruit and sweet bread. The conversation was always rather light in the morning, everyone was still waking up and there wasn't much to talk about other than how everyone slept the night before. The only thing that ever really changed was when Vrinda started to discuss the day’s lessons to her son; what they would be learning or reading about that day and what their magic practice would consist of.

 

Sometimes Wingdings wondered how his mom ever found time to plan this stuff out when she was  _ always _ doing something. Maybe she was just some sort of amazing multitasker. Nevertheless when breakfast was over Treb got up, kissed his wife, and walked back outside to keep working while the other two gathered up the dishes to wash them and then get on with their lessons.

 

The morning light was always great for reading, and lately Wingdings' interests had been turning more towards the sciences, medical in particular. They didn't have too many documents on those subjects, but Wingdings  _ was _ only eight, so getting through them was still difficult.

 

But of course, that didn't stop him.

 

Wingding was still a superb reader in comparison to most children his age who didn't even know how. So, to make things more challenging, Vrinda had turned half of his reading lessons into public speaking lessons.

 

It had... not been easy.

 

Despite being able to actually speak, Wingdings hated doing it. His voice was loud and he had a hard time controlling just how much volume came out, and even though he could read great in his head when it came to actually putting his mouth into the equation things just got muddled and confusing.

 

But they  _ were _ getting somewhere.

 

Wingdings could talk for the whole lesson now without his voice becoming hoarse, and even though it took him much longer to get through a page verbally than it did in his head, his speed was improving every day.

 

When his lesson was finished they both stopped for a drink so he could soothe his non-existent throat before getting to their magic practice.

 

“Do you think you would like to talk with Doctor Sompa about an apprenticeship when you're a little older?” Vrinda asked as her son downed his cider.

 

The little skeleton looked at her over his cup and thought about that for a moment. It was a pretty big decision, going for an apprenticeship. He did really like reading about medical procedure and magical healing, runes especially. That was different than actually practicing though.

 

_ '… Do you think he would let me watch before I decide?' _ Wingdings asked with his hands.

 

“I don't see why not.” Vrinda smiled. “We have to head into town tomorrow, I'll stop by and ask him. How does that sound?”

 

The little boy nodded thankfully.

 

“Now finish up your drink, we need to get started on your magic practice.”

 

Wingdings finished up his cider and then moved out the door with his mother as they rounded their farmhouse and started on the trek across the backyard and up a hill to a more wooded, secluded area where their magic practice always took place. It was never done out in the open or in plain sight, and Vrinda had made sure that her son knew that using magic wasn't something that was to be bragged about.

 

Skeleton monsters were particularly adept at magic because they had so little between themselves and the magic that gave them life. There was no blood or skin or fur to maintain, just bones, which meant their magic could be put to greater use elsewhere.

 

Of course that wasn't to say skeleton monsters were the most powerful, not by a long shot. Elemental monsters were far stronger, and nevermind boss monsters.

 

As they reached the top of the hill they went in a bit further to a clearing where they typically practiced, a few logs buried into the ground and some of the trees scratched up and bark missing from previous sessions.

 

Wingdings summoned his own attack, a two foot long white femur held in his hand, and practice began.

 

Vrinda would toss little rocks at him and have him block them, have him try and hit her without moving and using only ground attacks, and trying to maintain turning or summoning blue attacks. The hardest for him was turning someone else's soul another color, he couldn't seem to figure it out. His soul was purple, which usually meant being able to control someone else's pathing or tying them up somehow, but he couldn't seem to be able to do any of that.

 

That didn't stop them from trying though.

 

Vrinda and Wingdings would practice magic every day for at least an hour. As he became older that stretched out for longer and longer as the boy's stamina increased, but it was never for  _ too _ long. They had other things to do and a farm to take care of.

 

As they started to walk out of the wooded area Wingdings tugged on his mother's apron to get her attention before signing;  _ 'How come you teach me how to fight?' _

 

Vrinda paused and looked a little surprised. “Fight? Wingdings this isn't about fighting. It's about harnessing your magic.”

 

He didn't look very convinced.

 

His mother sighed. “It only looks like fighting because that's the primary use our magic has. We're skeletons, so we summon bone attacks. But that doesn't mean they need to be used to fight. They can be used for hunting, or as a makeshift ladder, or other practical uses. Knowing how to use your magic in the ways I teach you will open your mind to using them in everyday situations.”

 

Wingdings listened and... everything she said made sense, like it always did, but the things Cylas always brought up about his mom teaching him how to fight always nagged at his mind and he couldn't quite let them go.

 

_ 'I guess so.' _ He signed eventually.

 

“...” Vrinda turned to face her son, a hand resting on his head. “These are _magic_ _lessons_ , not fighting lessons. Remember that.”

 

The boy looked up at his mother and nodded. When Vrinda smiled, he found himself smiling back.

 

“Good.” She said, petting his head. “Now we're going to head into town tomorrow for the market, so when we get back you'll need to help your father prepare the wagon. And no staying up late reading, we need to be up early.”

 

_ 'Yes mom.' _ Wingdings signed, walking down the hill along after her.

 

\---

 

The following morning they all woke even earlier than usual, doing any last preparations before they started on the journey into town. They hooked up their horse and finished loading up any last goods; mostly eggs or hens for butcher, and then were off.

 

They arrived along with all the rest of the morning bustle and both Vrinda and Treb stepped off the front of the wagon before making their way around the back where Wingdings sat with his feet dangling off the edge. He passed his mother the baskets full of eggs and tried his best not to look at the crates of their chickens being unloaded by his dad.

 

It always made him sad, knowing that they were going to be killed, even if he knew it was so people could eat. He used to cry about it, but after one too many talks (and scoldings) from his parents over it, he had just accepted that it was a thing that had to happen.

 

(One of his earlier tantrums, where he had hung onto one of the crates and nearly broke it enough to allow the chickens to escape, Vrinda had given him a spanking and quite the talking to.)

 

As the market grew busier with the morning crowd, Wingdings hung around the wagon watching his parents. Trebuchet carried the crates full of chickens to the butcher's while his mom traded their eggs for gold or things they needed. Flour, sugar, fruits and nuts, anything that they couldn't grow themselves.

 

...

 

Vrinda was the one to notice it first.

 

Side glances.

 

Whispers.

 

Some of the humans had started to give them a wider berth than they usually did.

 

There were always going to be personal grudges between certain people, but things lately had become gradually more and more tense. The humans huddled together more. The monsters did the same in retaliation.

 

Both Trebuchet and Vrinda had noticed it over the course of the last few months. A growing tension.

 

Now it was Wingdings' turn.

 

As he sat on the back of the wagon one of the human children he knew walked past with his father, so he did what he usually did and waved in greeting.

 

Before the child could even wave back their father yanked them a little to stop and they kept on walking.

 

Wingdings yanked his hand down as though it had just been slapped.

 

It's what it felt like.

 

His smile fell and he looked away, staring into his mother's back like it would somehow hold the answer to what had just happened. The little skeleton rubbed his hand like it would soothe the imaginary sting.

 

Vrinda could feel his little eyes on her and looked back at him once she finished trading some eggs for some potatoes.

 

“... Wingdings?” She asked, her voice standing out amongst the quiet crowd to those who could hear it.

 

His eyes moved up to lock onto his mom's.  _ '… Did I do something wrong?' _ He signed, even his motions fearful and sad.

 

“What?” Vrinda asked, frowning. Not angry at him, but angry at whatever had caused this before she even knew what it was.

 

_ 'Did I do something wrong?' _ Wingdings repeated,  _ 'I waved at Bradley and his dad and they looked angry at me for something.' _

 

Vrinda sighed, “You didn't do anything wrong. It's nothing to worry about.” She turned back around to trade more eggs as someone approached.

 

_ 'Okay...' _ Wingdings signed even though his mother wasn't looking at him anymore.

 

…

 

He still worried about it.

 

“Why don't you go find Cylas?” Vrinda said, turning to look at her son again once she had finished another trade.

 

Wingdings looked up and nodded, slipping off the edge of the wagon.

 

“Here.” She said, handing him some gold. “We'll be around all day, so grab some lunch here.”

 

The little skeleton made a face. He hated it when he had to eat someone else's cooking.

 

“None of that.” Vrinda chided, “Come back here this afternoon. I don't want to have to wander around shouting for you.”

 

Wingdings nodded and was then sent off with a tap of his mother's teeth against his skull.

 

As he walked towards the inn where Cylas' mother worked he paid a little more attention to where the humans who lived in the town were looking and who they were walking with. He realized that it was definitely a lot more segregated than he remembered. How had he not noticed this before? The adults crowded together signing to one another, and only a few of them had both humans  _ and _ monsters in them. The ones that did looked a lot more worried about whatever was going on than the groups who were separated between species.

 

… Maybe he just spent too much time daydreaming, caught up in his own head and thoughts to notice the change. Everyone always said he had his skull in the clouds.

 

Wingdings shoved open the door to the inn and looked around to try and spot Cylas or his mom.

 

At least this place still had plenty of humans and monsters looking... mostly friendly to one another? It wasn't too busy, most of the people in town were still selling in the market outside, but there were a few eating breakfast or discussing business.

 

Bringing drinks to one table was a tall, orange-haired monster. From the back she looked very much human, but as soon as she turned around you saw the family resemblance. A single, large, green eye sat in the middle of the monster's face.

 

“Oh! Hey Wingdings. Lookin' for Cylas?” She asked, the skeleton smiling a little again and nodding.

 

“He should be around somewhere. Last I saw he was hanging out with his cousins. Maybe check around back.”

 

The skeleton signed a quick 'thank you' before running right back out the way he had came and down the little alley between the tavern and another one of the shops. He could already hear Cylas complaining about  _ something  _ and a trio of feminine voices adding their own two cents.

 

“Who knows.” One said.

 

“You should be more careful, still.” Another added.

 

“Ugh, whatever.” Followed Cylas' voice.

 

Wingdings rounded the corner to find exactly what he had been told, Cylas sitting on a barrel surrounded by three girls, all cyclops monsters. Triplets. Each one had a green eye and silver hair, as well as similarly matching dresses and shoes.

 

Despite having two pairs of eyes between them, they all managed to spot the skeleton rounding the corner.

 

“Dings!” Cylas grinned, leaping off the barrel and landing on his feet. Wingdings smiled and waved to all of them.

 

“Hey Wingdings.” All three of the girls said in near unison.

 

_ 'What are you guys up to?' _ He signed.

 

“Eh, nothin'.” Cylas said for all of them and was already starting to ditch his cousins in favor of his best friend. “Tell mom I'm gonna be with Dings.” He said, glancing back to the three girls. One of them nodded while the other two started to chat between themselves.

 

Wingdings waved at them again as they left the back of the inn and started walking along the narrow alleys of town, winding through outside storage of different shops and garbage tossed onto back steps.

 

“Parents at the market?” Cylas asked.

 

“Yeah.” The skeleton said, verbally this time. It was easy to just say 'yes' and 'no' nowadays, especially when the person you were talking to wasn't looking directly at you. He didn't want to admit it was as convenient as his mother had said it was a few years ago when she had been first trying to get him to talk.

 

“Cool.” Cylas said. “Glad I don't have to hang out with my cousins all day.”

 

_ 'What's wrong with your cousins?' _ Wingdings signed once he was sure his friend was watching him.

 

“They're girls.” The boy said, as though that was reason enough. “Maini totally has a crush on you by the way.” He grinned.

 

Wingdings made a face that wrinkled his nasal bone.

 

“She does! Didn't you see how she looked at you when we left?” Cylas asked, and the skeleton just shook his head.

 

_ 'She smiled at me. She smiles at plenty of people.' _

 

“Yeah but it was different. You know it was different!”

 

Wingdings just rolled his eye lights. He didn't see how.

 

“Don't you ever think about girls? Or boys? Or anyone?” Cylas asked.

 

_ 'Uh. I think about a lot of things.' _

 

“Ugh! No! Like... having a crush on them!” The cyclops groaned.

 

“No.” Wingdings said verbally before signing the rest.  _ 'There are more interesting things to think about. Like mom is going to talk to Doctor Sompa today about maybe getting an apprenticeship with him when I'm older. That's more interesting than girls. Or boys. Or whatever.' _

 

Now it was Cylas' turn to look confused. “Man you're weird.”

 

_ 'You're weird.' _ Wingdings shot back.

 

As they rounded a corner they spotted a couple of other monster children they knew throwing pebbles against the side of one of the buildings.

 

Moen, a four-armed snake monster, was already looking at them before they turned the corner, and beside him was a dog monster named Cadis with black and white fur. They knew each other well enough, it was easy to make friends when you lived in a small town and only had so many other children around your age, although Moen was a little older.

 

_ 'Hey guys.'  _ Cylas signed,  _ 'What's up?' _

 

The two signed a greeting back before Moen used his first set of hands to sign.  _ 'Nothing. Our parents are running errands, so we're just killing some time.' _

 

_ 'Getting away from the family for a bit.' _ Cadis signed with a huff, although Moen would be the only one not able to hear it.

 

Cylas and Wingdings settled in on the crates beside them, the skeleton curling up to sit on the dirt underneath his friend's feet. He watched for a few moments as they all signed together, asking what the others had been up to and if they had heard any gossip among the other kids. Wingdings only interjected once to say that he hadn't been doing much lately. Nothing new. After that he went silent and watched.

 

It wasn't that he disliked Moen and Cadis, they were really nice! It was just... he didn't have too much to add to the conversation. He had never been that great at talking to others about... stuff. Most of the kids his age couldn't read as well as he could, most didn't have the same interests as him. He didn't hold it against them or anything, Wingdings knew he was a little strange compared to most kids.

 

So he didn't interject in the conversation and just watched. Cadis talked about his family. Moen talked about the younger kids he helped babysit. Cylas talked about his family too, although not with the same affection as Cadis did his own.

 

Eventually Wingdings looked away and picked up a little pebble, tossing it against the side of the building they were all facing while the others continued signing to one another. Just as things started to die down another child around their age found them; poking an owl-like head between the buildings before stepping in to hide away with the rest of them.

 

_ ‘Hey Alligory.’ _ They signed, and the very long monster waved his talons.

 

Alligory looked a lot like an owl mixed with an alligator, and while he didn’t talk too much, he didn’t require signing like Moen and Cadis did. But it was only polite to pick up the habit when company needed it, and Moen was mostly deaf.

 

They started the conversation anew, present company asking Alligory how he was doing and if he had done anything fun lately. Cylas had taken up to tossing pebbles against the side of the adjacent building too. But as the conversation once again lulled into the small group of monsters just sitting there and tossing things at the wall, Wingdings finally lifted his head and moved his hands upward to sign so everyone could see it.

 

_ ‘So have you guys noticed how… things are a little weird between humans and monsters right now?’ _

 

_ ‘No. What do you mean?’ _ Cadis signed back.

 

_ ‘I have.’ _ Moen added, and Alligory nodded.

 

_ ‘Yeah.’ _ Cylas signed, just to be part of the conversation.  _ ‘Mom has been complaining about it a lot. There was a fight a few days ago between a monster and a human.’ _

 

_ ‘What happened?’ _ Alligory quickly chimed in, eager to hear the story.

 

_ ‘I dunno, I didn’t hear all the details. It was between Mr. Barton and Mx. Hale. Something about Mx. Hale being dangerous because they use their magic pretty often or something?’ _

 

_ ‘Do they?’  _ Cadis asked.

 

_ ‘I guess? I don’t know them very well. Musta if Mr. Barton got all angry about it.’  _ Cylas just shrugged.

 

Wingdings felt something in his chest tighten. He was… a little scared. Magic wasn’t meant to hurt people. It was meant to help. Surely Mr. Barton knew that. He even went to the same healer as everyone else in town, human or not!

 

_ ‘I’ve noticed a lot of the adult humans giving me a wider berth.’ _ Moen added, not looking all that happy.

 

_ ‘I’ve heard it has something to do with the human King. That he’s been telling everyone monsters are dangerous.’ _ Alligory signed.

 

_ ‘What?!’ _ Wingdings signed indignantly, perhaps with more emotion than he intended with the slightly startled looks he got.

 

_ ‘... Yeah.’ _ Alligory continued,  _ ‘Town crier mentions crazy stuff about monsters from the human King sometimes.’ _

 

_ ‘Damn.’ _ Cylas signed, looking a little worried now too.

 

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence.

 

Wingdings looked between all of them and frowned. He felt guilty for bringing down the mood as much as he did, but thankfully Cylas was there to at least bail them out as he reached down and tapped the skeleton’s shoulder to get his attention.

 

_ ‘Let’s head to the inn and grab some lunch.’ _

 

Wingdings nodded, eager get out of the tense air he had created and got to his feet. The pair said their goodbyes before walking back to the inn. Mini, Maini, and Mo were no longer there, probably picked up by their family or off playing with someone else.

 

They sat at their usual table and waited for Cylas’ mom to spot them. The inn was a little busier now, and upon looking around it was much easier to notice the divide between species when you were looking for it.

 

The two of them shared an uncomfortable look.

 

“Hey.” Cylas’ mom said as she approached, “You two ready for lunch? Your mom give you lunch money, Wingdings?”

 

The skeleton nodded and dug into his coin pouch, pulling out enough to pay for his lunch and handing them over to the cyclops monster.

 

“Okay, I’ll getcha both something to eat as soon as I can.” She said before walking off to deal with more customers.

 

The two sat in an unusual silence while they waited until Cylas leaned over to his friend and whispered; “It’s easy to notice things are weird when you’re lookin’ for it.”

 

Wingdings nodded in agreement and signed a little under the table so only Cylas could see.  _ ‘Can you hear anyone saying anything different?’ _

 

Cylas had better hearing than he did, and there were still a number of humans and monsters around that spoke even if their friends had to sign back.

 

The cyclops turned and started to swivel his ears around to eavesdrop on the groups of adults scattered around the inn while Wingdings used his better-than-Cylas’-eye(s) to try and pick out any bits of conversation being signed.

 

(… Something about missing chickens? Nah, that wasn’t anything interesting.

 

Something… something… taxes. Definitely not worth paying attention to.

 

Another conversation was about the upcoming harvest.)

 

Bleh. Nothing.

 

Wingdings looked at his friend.  _ ‘Anything interesting?’ _

 

Cylas shook his head. “Nah.”

 

They both sighed.

 

As they waited for their food they still continued to snoop in on the conversations around them, some groups leaving only to be replaced by another cluster of adults with hopefully something more interesting to talk about. When Cylas’ mom commented about how much they were behaving today Cylas spun some excuse about how they were making plans for their new fort in the woods which she bought pretty easily.

 

(They weren’t making new plans for their fort.

 

Castle Clawbone was perfect already.)

 

As they were beginning to eat their lunch and Cylas was starting to gripe about giving up and talking about something more fun, Wingdings caught the sign for ‘monster’ by a human. He quickly nudged Cylas and jerked his head in the direction of the group for him to listen in, although only one of them was speaking verbally, and they were keeping their voice pretty low.

 

All the more reason to be suspicious.

 

He couldn’t make out everything they were signing, but he did catch bits and pieces.

 

_ ‘Magic.’ _

 

_ ‘Powerful.’ _

 

_ ‘Absorb?’ _

 

_ ‘Unnatural.’ _

 

Wingdings watched for as long as he could, occasionally looking away to eat or make it appear that he wasn’t blatantly staring at them. Eventually the conversation died as all of them got their food and moved onto other topics.

 

The little skeleton looked at his friend as if to say ‘well?’

 

_ ‘Guy was talking really quiet, only heard a little.’ _ Cylas signed under the table, mouth stuffed with bread.  _ ‘Something about how humans aren’t as good with magic as monsters are, and how it isn’t right or something? It was a bunch of crazy stuff.’ _

 

Wingdings frowned.  _ ‘I could only make out a few of the signs, but yeah. Something about magic and power, and how it was unnatural and… something about absorbing?’ _

 

Cylas gave him a confused look and the skeleton just shrugged.

 

He didn’t know either.

 

Despite how little the two of them had pieced together from the conversations they overheard, and from what the other kids had told them, it was still enough to make them both feel… anxious. Even Cylas couldn’t shake off the feeling that this actually  _ was _ something they might have to worry about.

 

Wingdings finished as much of his food as he could even though it paled in comparison to his mother’s cooking, and then decided it was probably a pretty good time to part ways with Cylas and find his parents.

 

Maybe they could shed some light on this whole situation, even if his mom had told him not to worry about it.

 

After saying goodbye to Cylas and his mom, the little skeleton walked out of the inn and started to wander around the town. He was never too sure where his parents would end up, but they did have their usual haunts. He checked each place he could usually find them before spotting his dad talking to one of the other merchants. They were a monster too, thankfully.

 

…

 

It bothered him that he thought it was good that his dad was talking to a monster rather than a human. He shouldn’t think that. That sort of thinking was what usually lead to this sort of confrontation, right?

 

Wingdings shook his head to get the more negative thoughts towards humans out of his skull.

 

He jogged up to his dad and grabbed his hand while it hung at his side, the bone rough and discolored in comparison to his own.

 

Trebuchet didn’t even need to look down to know who it was, but he did anyway. The edges of where his mouth would be turned upwards in as much of a smile as he could manage before he looked back to his friend and signed his goodbyes, taking his boy being next to him as signal to start getting ready to head back home.

 

_ ‘Hey kiddo. What’cha been up to?’ _

 

_ ‘Hangin’ out with Cylas.’ _ Wingdings signed back.

 

_ ‘Have fun?’ _

 

_ ‘Yeah. _ ’ He lied, not really ready to jump right into the conversation he wanted to have just yet.

 

Treb smiled and looked towards the sky to get a guess at what time it was before his attention returned to his son.  _ ‘I guess we should find mom. You see her?’ _

 

The little skeleton shook his head.

 

_ ‘Okay, let’s start looking.’ _

 

Wingdings squeezed his dad’s hand as they walked through the crowd, Trebuchet scanning faces and looking for the pink bandanna Vrinda was wearing around her head today. Just as he spotted her and waved her over, he felt a tug on his hand followed by the all too unfamiliar sound of his son’s voice.

 

“Dad…?”

 

Treb blinked and looked down, but Wingdings wasn’t looking up at him as he said, “Why do some humans not like us anymore?”

 

The large skeleton’s eye sockets went strained around the edges.

 

Oh.

 

Oh dear.

 

He looked up at the spot he saw his wife last, but she was still saying goodbye to her friend, and he couldn’t stall  _ forever _ .

 

Vrinda was so much better with words than he was. Oh stars he hoped he didn’t mess this up.

 

_ ‘Well…’  _ Trebuchet signed once his son was looking at him, just to stall for a few more seconds.  _ ‘I don’t think they don’t LIKE us, they’re just… confused. And getting their information from someone they trust, but that person is wrong about a lot of things. I think that once they realize that then everything is going to be okay. Just don’t let anything they might say get to you. Did someone say something bad?’ _

 

“No…” Wingdings said before switching to his hand.  _ ‘Just the kids were talking about it, and Cylas and I overheard some of the humans talking about it. Like about magic and stuff.’ _

 

… Treb nodded,  _ ‘They’re just confused. All we can really do is correct them when they say something wrong, and prove that we’re not bad. If they see that, then they’ll realize that what they think isn’t right. Okay?’ _

 

The little boy looked up at his father’s face, scarred and rough and brown with two dark eye sockets, and nodded. He wasn’t completely convinced, but… what else  _ could _ they do?

 

As soon as Wingdings looked back down at the ground Trebuchet caught sight of his wife heading over to them and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she could help ease their son’s mind more than he could.

 

And as soon as Vrinda caught sight of the slight stress around her husband’s eyes she  _ did _ know something was up and her pace quickened.

 

“What’s wrong?” She said as soon as she was beside them, the pinprick lights of her eyes bouncing between the two.

 

Trebuchet made a ‘everything is fine’ sort of gesture as Wingdings looked up at his mom. Then Treb signed;  _ ‘Little one is worried that humans hate us.’  _ to catch his wife up to speed.

 

“Oh.” Vrinda said, the flat tone of her voice saying enough of what she thought of  _ that _ . Nevertheless she sighed and crouched down to get on her son’s level, her dress pooling around her in the dry dirt of the ground. “Did someone say something to you?” She asked first, voice stern.

 

Wingdings shook his head.  _ ‘Overheard stuff. And the other kids were talking about it.’ _

 

“What did you overhear?”

 

The little skeleton shifted on his feet.  _ ‘Stuff about magic. And power. And Cylas said that there’s been fights at the inn between humans and monsters.’ _

 

Vrinda listened, then looked up at her husband who just offered her a sad, lost look.

 

She sighed again.

 

“Wingdings, it’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s just some people being prejudiced and stupid, and following a figure of authority blindly rather than thinking for themselves. But don’t let anyone convince you that the things they say is true, alright?” She reached out, taking her son’s chin in her fingers and lifting it up so he was looking at her. “ _ You _ know those things aren’t true. Just remember that.”

 

Wingdings looked at her, his mother’s face such a stark contrast to his father’s. She was pale, her bones were smooth, and her eye lights were bright and sharp.

 

He nodded after a moment, and Vrinda smiled.

 

“Good.” She said, then decided to change the subject to something much more positive. “... I talked to Doctor Sompa today.”

 

Her son looked up, hopeful.

 

“He said you can sit in and watch him work occasionally. To decide if you want to be a doctor. Why don’t we go see if Ms. Cara has any new rune books? They’ll be a pretty good start.”

 

Wingdings’ already toothy mouth turned into a full-on grin, any anxiety and nervousness being forgotten for the excitement of sitting in with the town doctor and maybe even getting a new book to take home.

 

He reached to take hold of his mom’s hand, the other still holding onto his dad’s, and nearly dragged the two of them towards the bookstore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest characters include:  
> Mini, Maini, & Mo ( @rice-baller )  
> Sompa ( @givowl )  
> Cara ( @the-writer-of-universes )  
> Cadis ( @thecuralee )  
> Moen ( @rataplani )  
> Alligory ( @thekrookodilehunter )


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